


refuse to be (so wicked)

by raspberryswirl (pinktrixie)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Eventual Romance, F/F, Sort Of, Time Travel, you'll see - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-29
Updated: 2019-12-02
Packaged: 2019-12-26 12:26:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18282365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinktrixie/pseuds/raspberryswirl
Summary: in the midst of the hogwarts repairs, hermione granger comes across the absolute last person she expected to see.xxbellatrix black wakes up to hogwarts in ruin and the year is certainly not 1970.





	1. not a has-been, a will be

**Author's Note:**

> story title from lykke li's no rest for the wicked
> 
> chapter title from lauren bacall: "I am not a has-been. I am a will be."

_ chapter one. not a has-been, a will be.  _

 

Bellatrix Black woke with a start, breath barely reaching her lungs as she gasped for air. Her hands clawed at her neck and her eyes bulged. She twisted wildly, her legs catching in her skirts as she thrashed around. 

 

After what felt like an hour, she settled back against the bed. 

 

_ Must have been some Quidditch party _ , she thought wryly, staring up at the green canopy above her bed. Her whole body ached painfully, particularly her left side, where the younger Winickus brother had accidentally redirected a bludger into her. She pushed herself into a sitting position. She’d just have to convince Andy to give her one of the good headache potions and maybe patch up her ribs. 

 

Bellatrix glanced around the seventh year dormitory, which was strangely empty. There weren’t any trunks or posters. Not even Beth’s annoyingly cloying perfume hung in the air. It was just...empty. 

 

Bellatrix dove to the ground, searching for her belongings, but there was nothing there. Biting back a vicious curse, she stormed out of the room, ready to tear into whatever idiot messed with her belongings. 

 

But the staircase was quiet and clean. Not at all how it should be after winning the Cup. Last night there had been streamers and butterbeer bottles and snogging couples. Now it was just abandoned. 

 

Her heart pounded uncomfortably in her throat as she emerged into the common room. 

 

“Alright, you filthy muggle-lovers, what have you…” Bellatrix’s voice faded away as she stared at the empty room. Like the staircases, it was completely abandoned. There was no trace of anybody. In fact, it seemed like how the common room looked at the beginning of the term. But it was May. 

 

Her wand now drawn, she tore back up the stairs, first to the first year dormitory in search of Narcissa. If whoever had pulled this stunt had touched either of her sisters, she would flay them alive, without magic. But it was empty. The beds were turned up, the pillows all stacked in one corner. 

 

“Cissy!” She screamed, her voice breaking with the anxiety of her missing sister. 

 

She checked every corner of the room before moving up to the fifth floor. 

 

“Andy! Andromeda! This isn’t funny anymore!” 

 

With a long string of curses, she burst back into the common room. She would just go to breakfast and then hex whoever had done this into the next millennium. 

 

Casting a cursory glance around the empty common room, Bellatrix shook her head and left the Slytherin common room. 

 

As the door slammed shut behind her, a newspaper fluttered down from one of the bookcases. 

 

**_LORD VOLDEMORT DEAD; HARRY POTTER VICTORIOUS_ **

 

Bellatrix practically sprinted up the narrow staircases that led to the Great Hall. The air was heavy with dust and magic; it crackled at her skin. It felt both unnatural and strangely familiar. 

 

When she finally reached the Entrance Hall, her mouth fell open. 

 

It was in ruins. Large parts of the ceiling lay broken on the ground and there was a dark smear that looked awfully like blood across the floor. 

 

“What in Merlin’s name…” She trailed off as she saw a girl about her age emerge from behind one of the pieces of masonry. Her wand was in the air, directing a series of bricks back into the entryway. Bellatrix’s fingers curled around her own wand as she watched the girl. She didn’t even look vaguely familiar, but Bellatrix felt drawn to her. 

 

Bellatrix’s foot caught on a bit of loose rock, causing the stone to clatter across the floor noisily. 

 

The girl spun around sharply, her wand posed for dueling. Her eyes fell on Bellatrix and her mouth fell open. “You!” She brandished her wand violently at Bellatrix. If not for her Quidditch instincts, Bellatrix might have been another dark smear on the floor as a large piece of rock flew past where her head had been. “You are supposed to be,” the girl shot a fast series of stunners towards where Bellatrix lay, “dead!” she spat the last word along with a purple jet of light. 

 

Bellatrix rolled to the side and threw up a shield. The spell glanced off into the wall behind her. The girl continued to throw curses at her, steadily advancing on her. Bellatrix, still disoriented by the state of the entrance hall, maintained a shield in front of her. 

 

Bellatrix came to her senses as a stunner nearly grazed her cheek. She narrowed her eyes and surged forward, casting a series of curses back at the other witch. “Who in Merlin’s name are you?” 

 

The other witch was prodigious, nearly a match to Bellatrix’s own skill. The two witches exchanged curses until a particularly tricky bit of skill work ended with Bellatrix on the ground, her wand in the other girl’s hand.  

 

“Get up.” The other girl jerked her wand at her violently. “I said, get up.” Bellatrix slowly stood to her feet, not too fond of the dark glint in the brunette’s eye. “ _ Incarcerous. _ ” 

 

“What are you doing? Do you know who I am?” Bellatrix struggled against the thin ropes cutting into her wrists. 

 

The other girl sneered at her. “Of course I do. Now walk.” Bellatrix froze as the other witch brandished for her to move. “Come on. We’ll go speak with McGonagall. I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.” The other girl gripped her shoulder and dug her wand into Bellatrix’s back. Bellatrix hesitated for a moment before moving forward in the direction the girl pushed her. The pair walked in silence until Bellatrix made to turn towards the Transfiguration classroom. The other girl let out a hiss and forced her the other way. 

 

“You said McGonagall, right?” 

 

“Yes.” 

 

“We’re going the wrong way.” 

 

“No, we aren’t.” 

 

“Do you even attend Hogwarts?” 

 

“I did.” 

 

“Past tense?” 

 

“Just shut up, okay?” 

 

Bellatrix shrugged her shoulder, ignoring the pain shooting up her ribcage. “Whatever you want.” 

 

The other girl led her through the hallways, which looked as if it had been ravaged by war. They came to a stop in front of the headmaster’s office, guarded by a gargoyle missing its beak. The other girl moved in front of Bellatrix, one hand still resting on Bellatrix’s shoulder. Bellatrix took the opportunity to study her captor more closely. 

 

She was smaller than Bellatrix in height, but of a similarly slim build. Her hair looked like it needed a good smoothing potion, but was otherwise a pretty brown color. Bellatrix traced down the girl’s outstretched arm on her shoulder. 

 

_ Mudblood  _

 

A chill passed down Bellatrix’s spine as she studied the word. It had been carved into her skin, still pink and scabbing at points. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from the girl. Was she a mudblood? But she had been such a talented duellist. Her magic had overpowered Bellatrix. That couldn’t be. 

 

The letters looked so familiar. 

 

Why did they look...so… “Granger?” The name fell from her lips without her awareness. The girl snapped her head to stare at Bellatrix. But then she was fading away. There was black forming around the edges of her vision. She was falling. She was falling. She was falling. 

 

_ Bellatrix screamed. She screamed until her voice gave out. She screamed for her master, for her sister, for the deaths of her enemies. She cursed that fucking Weasley who had hit her. She cursed the Potter boy and his inability to die.  _

 

_ She sobbed. Tears coursed down her cheeks. She couldn’t remember the last time she had cried.  _

 

_ That was a lie.  _

 

_ She knew when the last time she had cried had been. It had been as she held Cissy when a letter arrived from her middle sister, announcing her marriage to that filthy mudblood. After that, she had forsworn tears. She would not shed tears over anybody else.  _

 

_ And yet here she was, surrounded by darkness, sobbing.  _

 

_ “Child.” The voice held the multitudes of the universe in it. It was timeless and ancient and it made Bellatrix want to claw her skin off. “Welcome.”  _

 

_ Bellatrix hissed, but it was not in anger but in fear. “Where am I?” _

 

_ The ensuing chuckle felt as if it could level civilizations. “That depends I suppose, child. Do you follow a religion?”  _

 

_ “I know of the Old Gods and of those worshipped by foolish muggles.”  _

 

_ “All are close in their approximation of what happens next. But none are fully correct.”  _

 

_ “What happens next?” Bellatrix rasped out, her eyes constantly seeking out the source of the voice. “What happens to me?”  _

 

_ “I have long been curious about you, Bellatrix Agrippa Black. I have watched you since you were born. When you and your mother almost perished. I watched as you fought and dragged yourself back into the world of the living. Your cheeks turned pink and you wailed and I was intrigued. Your name. Bellatrix. The female warrior. You are at your core, a fighter. I have watched as you have fought through every moment of your life.”  _

 

_ A press of images overwhelmed Bellatrix.  _

 

_ xx  _

 

_ “You fought to protect your sisters from the dangers of your father, from the darkness of your mother.”  _

 

_ Narcissa, aged five, braided daisies into Bellatrix’s dark hair while Andy wove crowns of flowers for them.  _

 

_ Andromeda, her face smiling and so similar to Bellatrix’s own. The pair of them curled in one bed, giggling, whispering secrets.  _

 

_ xx  _

 

_ “You fought to prove yourself.”  _

 

_ The rapid-fire images of her sorting, her first Quidditch cup, her dueling championships.  _

 

_ The images disappeared as a voice she had not heard in many years said, “You could be brilliant, Bellatrix, but you must choose your own path. Do not allow others to control your destiny.”  _

 

_ “Of course not, Professor McGonagall.”  _

 

_ “If you do not wish to go through with this wedding, you will always have a place with me.”  _

 

_ A warm smile, a cup of tea.  _

 

_ xx  _

 

_ Then pain. _

 

_ “You fought to save yourself from pain, even though it meant throwing yourself into the fire.”    _

 

_ The burn of the dark mark. Her Lord’s hissed words of praise.  _

 

_ But then, Rodolphus’ face looming over her. She tried to scream but there was no sound.  _

 

_ xx  _

 

_ “But in your fight for survival, you have lost your soul.”  _

 

_ “I have lost nothing, but my Lord!” Bellatrix spat out, her hands curling into fists at her side.  _

 

_ That laugh came again and Bellatrix wanted to curl into a ball.  _

 

_ “You have lost everything. But fret not, child. Of all those who have died today, you shall be the only one to receive a second chance.” _

 

_ “To stand by my master.” She stated.  _

 

_ Something hissed across her cheek, leaving pain in its wake. “Foolish child. You will have a chance to redeem yourself. You have left a scar across your world. And you will repair it.”  _

 

_ “I did my best to serve my Lord! I will not apologize for that! Release me!”  _

 

_ Something gripped her head tightly as if it were pressing her further into the darkness. “You will return but it will not be as you currently are. I will return you to before you were tainted, but you will not forget what you have done. You will live with the weight of your actions.”  _

 

_ The darkness pressed down upon her, forcing her back into nothingness.  _

 

xx 

 

“Professor! Professor! You need to come down right away!” Hermione managed between sharp breaths after her sprint up the narrow staircase. 

 

“Miss Granger, breathe please.” Professor McGonagall looked up at Hermione from behind her square glasses. “What has happened that has gotten you into this state?” 

 

Hermione wanted to squirm under her teacher’s gaze but fought the urge. “I think you need to see it to believe it. I barely believe it myself.” 

 

“I’d appreciate it if you stopped speaking in riddles, Miss Granger,” said McGonagall, even as she rose and joined the young woman in the entryway. “Lead the way.” She motioned for Hermione to descend and Hermione was quick to do so, leading her to where she had left Bellatrix. 

 

“I captured her in the Entrance Hall and was in the process of taking her to you when she fainted.” 

 

There was a sharp intake of breath beside her as her professor took in the young features of Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

“Is that…?” 

 

“Bellatrix Lestrange,” the name hung like poison in the air. 

 

Hermione tore her gaze away from the dark witch slumped against the wall to her professor, who looked as if she had seen a ghost. McGonagall opened her mouth as if to speak but then paused, a deep sadness in her eyes as she stared at the aristocratic features, unmarred by Azkaban and war. 

 

“No, I believe this is Bellatrix Black. She looks as she did in her school days.” 

 

“Time Turner accident?” 

 

“Perhaps,” said McGonagall through pursed lips. “We best move her to the Hospital Wing. We’ll find out more once she wakes up.” 

  
  
  



	2. stars, hide your fires

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from shakespeare's macbeth, act 1, scene 4

_ chapter two. stars, hide your fire.  _

 

As she sat in the Headmaster’s Office, Bellatrix was distinctly aware of three things. 

 

Firstly, her head was pounding painfully and the rest of her body felt as if she had been run over by a hippogriff. 

 

Secondly, Minerva McGonagall was seated at the Headmaster’s desk, not Dumbledore. That made no sense whatsoever until she glanced up to the portraits of former headmasters and found that batty old man smiling down at her. He had that annoying all-knowing glint in her eye that meant he knew exactly why she was in his office. She had been on the receiving end of that all too frequently. But it also raised the question of where the old man could’ve gone; he had been at the Quidditch match just the day before.

 

Thirdly, the girl that had hexed her looked as if she might do it again. 

 

“Are you feeling better, Bellatrix?” McGonagall asked, waving her wand and filling a mug with steaming tea. She gently levitated it over to Bellatrix, who gratefully took the warm mug. Since her little swooning fit, a bone-chilling cold had lodged itself in her body, not unlike the sensation described in Dementor attacks. 

 

“Thank you, Professor. I’m not sure what came over me.” Her gaze slid momentarily to the girl hovering near the window, her arms tight across her chest. 

 

McGonagall looked at her appraisingly. “Now, Bellatrix, if you would, what is the date today?” 

 

Bellatrix furrowed her brow, trying to deduce what game the Transfiguration professor was playing. “The date? It’s the 10th of May.” 

 

“The year.” The other girl had a deceptively gentle voice for somebody who hexed first, asked questions later. 

 

“1970. What is this about, Professor?” 

 

McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose for a long moment, exhaling sharply, before saying, “Miss Black, I’m not sure how best to say this….” 

 

“It’s 1998.” 

 

Bellatrix’s mouth fell open. “1998…? How? How is this possible?” Bellatrix, despite the pain in her body, shot to her feet. The panic began to roll through her body. “No, no, no.” 

 

  1. That was thirty years. 



 

“Miss Black, I understand this is a lot to take in, but if I may ask a few questions?” Bellatrix nodded her head, her entire body feeling numb. “Were you in possession of a time turner?” 

 

“What?” Bellatrix had only ever seen a broken time turner in a drawer of her uncle’s study. But before she could touch it or examine it further, her father had called her away. “No, of course not.” 

 

“And what is the last thing you remember?” 

 

Bellatrix fought the urge to pick at her nail beds, a long broken nervous habit. “The night after the Slytherin-Hufflepuff game. We were celebrating in our common room, that we had won the cup. Please, what happened to me?” She stared desperately at the older witch, who could only smile pityingly back at Bellatrix. 

 

“Dark magic, perhaps?” The girl near the window interjected. 

 

Bellatrix twisted to look at her, her dark eyes flashing. “No,” drawled Bellatrix, “that would be against school rules.” The girl scoffed. “I don’t think I caught your name, between all the hexing and what not.” 

 

The girl’s pretty face twisted in a sneer. “Hermione. Hermione Granger.” 

 

“Granger, hm? Can’t say I’ve ever heard of your family… Let me guess half-blood?” The other girl’s eye twitched and Bellatrix suppressed the urge to laugh. “No, no, I know. You’re a mudblood.” 

 

The tension in the room crackled as the other girl advanced on Bellatrix. 

 

“Miss Granger, stand down.” 

 

Bellatrix chuckled, grinning at the other girl. “Yes, Miss  _ Granger _ , best stand down before your betters.” 

 

A flash of red light burst from the girl’s wand and Bellatrix dove to the side, but not before the spell grazed her arm. 

 

“Miss Granger! If you will not behave yourself, I will have to ask you to leave.” 

 

“You filthy little mudblood! Give me back my wand.” Granger’s eyes widened for the briefest of moments before she tucked her wand away. She glanced to McGonagall nervously. 

 

“Miss Black, I will return your wand when we have determined how you have ended up in 1998. Miss Granger, I think it’s best if you leave us for the time being.” The two witches engaged in a brief whispered debate that Bellatrix had little interest in. Instead, she stared around the office. 

 

Of course, there were the things that she remembered from her trips to see Dumbledore over her years at Hogwarts, the portraits of the old headmasters, the pensieve, the sorting hat. But there were new bookshelves and less of the strange little instruments Dumbledore was so fond of. 

 

Her eyes drifted to the wall of portraits. Dumbledore was still watching her with interest as were some of the others, including Phineas, the odd Black. But it was the younger looking one, a dark man who looked far younger than the rest of them. Not to say he was young, but he didn’t look as if he had been witness to Merlin. 

 

He did look vaguely familiar. But no matter. 

 

She focused back to the two witches, one of whom looked rather put out. 

 

“Of course, Headmistress. I’ll be in the Gryffindor common room if you need me.” 

 

Granger shot a hostile look Bellatrix’s way before sweeping out of the room, leaving the faintest scent of jasmine in her wake. 

 

“What is her problem?” 

 

McGonagall let out a long sigh. “It is hard to explain properly, Bellatrix. I’m afraid you’ve come to us at a difficult time.” 

 

“I wouldn’t be here if I could help it,” snarled Bellatrix. “Why in Merlin’s name would I want to be sent 30 years in the future? That is ridiculous. Surely, I must be around in this time and she, or rather me, could clear all this up.” The pinched expression that crossed McGonagall caused Bellatrix’s heart to sink. “I’m dead, aren’t I?” McGonagall made no move to confirm or deny. “How?” She finally croaked after a long beat. 

 

“I’m afraid I can’t tell you much of what’s going on until we know what has happened to you. I can’t in good conscience allow you to alter the past or the future, Miss Black.” 

 

“Do you think I want to be here?” Bellatrix snarled, her fingers itching for her wand. “I didn’t ask to be sent here. Just tell me what happened to me. What happened to my family. Where are my sisters?” 

 

“I’m sorry, Bellatrix. I can’t. Are you hungry?” 

 

Bellatrix blinked at the older woman, baffled by the sudden change in topic. “What?” 

 

“You were passed out for most of the day. It’s well on 9 o’clock.” 

 

“No,” managed Bellatrix, nausea rising in her stomach, “No, I’m not hungry. If I could just return to the Slytherin dorms, I think I’d like to go to bed.” 

 

“I think it would be best for you to stay in the Gryffindor dormitory as Miss Granger is the only other student currently staying at the castle.” 

 

“With that filthy mudblood?” Bellatrix leaped to her feet. “I will not!” 

 

McGonagall made a poor attempt at hiding her distaste. “I would advise you not continue using that term, Miss Black, but yes, you will. It will not be safe for you to leave the grounds until we have sorted this out. So I believe that this is your only option for now.” 

 

“Very well,” spat Bellatrix through gritted teeth. “And you won’t be giving me my wand back either, I suppose.” 

 

“No, I’m afraid not, Miss Black. This is for your own good.” 

 

As they walked towards Gryffindor Tower, neither of them spoke, but Bellatrix did eagerly survey the damage that had been dealt to the castle. Spell marks pocked the walls, and large chunks of stone littered the ground. 

 

Granger was waiting for them inside the tower, her scowl still firmly in place. 

 

“Miss Granger, if you would please show Miss Black to the head girl’s quarters. I think it best she stay close for the time being.” 

 

Granger looked as if she wanted to say something, but refrained, standing to her feet jerkily. “C’mon then.” 

 

“Miss Black,” called McGonagall right as they reached the stairway, “I will do everything in my power to fix this and send you back to your time.” 

 

“Thank you, Professor.” Bellatrix nodded curtly to the teacher, all of her years of etiquette training forcing her face to a neutral expression. “I appreciate it.” 

 

Granger coughed, a few stairs ahead of Bellatrix, and Bellatrix turned back to follow her up the stairs. 

 

She had only been in Gryffindor tower once for an ill-advised hook-up in her sixth year. And it apparently had not changed with time, remaining a nauseating mix of red and garish gold. She far preferred her Slytherin common room with its calming green and dark colors. 

 

Granger pushed open a door at the very top of the tower, revealing a rather large room draped in dark red. 

 

“Here, let me just make a divider so we can have our own space.” 

 

“What do you mean ‘our own space’?” 

 

Granger rolled her eyes dramatically. “We’ll be sharing.” 

 

Bellatrix grabbed at Granger’s arm. “What? Can this day get any worse? Not only I am 30 years in the future, now I have to share with a mudblood.” She spat the word out and relished in the other girl’s flinch. 

 

“I’d advise you stop using that term. It is no longer acceptable in this time.” Bellatrix made no move to apologize, so Granger simply said, “A house elf will bring you some clothes to sleep in. I’ll be back later. Have a good night.” 

 

Bellatrix grunted in acknowledgment. The door clicked behind Granger and Bellatrix’s walls collapsed. 

 

She shuffled to the bed, again in a terrible shade of red, and fell onto it. With a flick of her wrist, the curtains fell shut, blocking out the outside world. 

 

A loud sob ripped from her chest, Bellatrix curled in on herself. She wanted her sisters. She wanted Andromeda’s gentle reassurance and steady hand. She wanted Cissy’s bright smile and silly nature. How could she abandon her sisters? 

 

She needed to get back to her own time no matter the cost. 

 

xx 

 

Hermione pressed her back against the dormitory door, mind reeling. She shuddered as she listened to the sobs coming from within the room. 

 

Bellatrix Lestrange, Voldemort’s second-in-command, the most feared of the Death Eaters, sobbing in Gryffindor Tower. She didn’t know what to think. 

 

She made her way back down to where McGonagall waited. 

 

“All settled in?” 

 

“As well as she can be.” Hermione twisted her hands nervously in her lap. “Headmistress, may I ask a question?” 

 

“Of course, Miss Granger.” The pair settled in the overstuffed chairs next to the fireplace. “I assume it’s about our new guest.” 

 

“What was she like? When she was in school, or I guess, when she was who she is upstairs.” Hermione’s cheeks started to burn as she cut off her babbling. 

 

McGonagall smiled softly at Hermione as if she was lost back to time. “Bellatrix in school, much like as she was later in life, was a force to be reckoned with. What is it the papers call you, Miss Granger?” 

 

“Golden Girl?” 

 

McGonagall chuckled good-naturedly. “No, my dear, the brightest witch of your age.” Hermione’s cheeks flushed and she looked away. “It is well-deserved. But you are certainly not the first witch to hold that title.” 

 

“Not… no… Bellatrix?” 

 

“Yes, she was one of them. As was yours truly, and Lily Evans. Bellatrix exhibited a great level of magical skill even from a young age. She, of course, had the benefit of a wealthy pure blood family and was able to cultivate her skill even before she attended Hogwarts. Bellatrix was actually much like you in many ways.” Hermione’s eyebrows shot up. “She was incredibly studious and incredibly loyal to her sisters, not unlike you and Potter and Weasley. She was also a fantastic chaser and if I remember correctly had few offers from some of the mid-level teams. She had a particular fascination with magical creatures, dragons particularly.” 

 

“What happened to her then?” 

 

“As I said, she is loyal, perhaps to a fault. Her father arranged a marriage with a wizard a few years older than Bellatrix. I’m not sure what the exact details of the marriage were, but they married the day after she graduated with 11 outstandings in her NEWTs. Rodolphus Lestrange had always been involved in the dark arts and his new wife joined him. Within a year, Bellatrix had risen to He-Who-Voldemort’s second in command. I never knew why such a bright student could fall prey to fanaticism, but alas.” 

 

“Was she always so...anti-muggleborn?” 

 

McGonagall sighed and nodded. “She is a Black first and foremost. She grew up in a house so steeped in pure blood superiority that it was second nature.” 

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose in disgust. She would never understand how one human could so hate another. 

 

“Miss Granger, I think we’ve both had a long day. I will be in my quarters if you need anything.” McGonagall rose to her feet, but Hermione remained, staring blankly into the fire. McGonagall paused at the portrait. “Hermione,” Hermione shot her head up to meet McGonagall’s gaze. “Try to give Miss Black the benefit of the doubt. She’s not who she will become yet.” 

 

“Of course, Professor McGonagall.” 

 

Hermione returned to staring at the fire once McGonagall left. She couldn’t bring herself to go and sleep in the same room as the woman who barely a month earlier had tortured her. She would just sleep on the couch.  

 

“What a fucking day.”  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, hermione's not wrong 
> 
> loved hearing from everyone on the last chapter!! 
> 
> can't wait to go on this journey with you guys! 
> 
> much love, 
> 
> b xx


	3. you're pretty in pieces

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title from dessa's the seamstress.

_ chapter three. you’re pretty in pieces.  _

 

Hermione found herself trapped in the Gryffindor common room the next morning as she waited for Bellatrix to emerge. A note delivered by a house elf from McGonagall had made it explicitly clear that she was to remain with the witch until they figured out what had happened to her. 

 

After she absently flicked through her worn copy of  _ Hogwarts, A History _ for an hour or so, Hermione decided that she would not waste her entire day on the dark witch and promptly stormed upstairs. 

 

“Black! You’ve got to get up! I’m not sitting around all day!” Hermione pounded on the door a few times with her fist. “I’m coming in.” She pushed the door open, expecting to find the other girl awake or at least sleeping peacefully, but instead, she discovered Bellatrix thrashing about. 

 

One of the curtains surrounding her bed had been cut in half, the ends singed. 

 

Bellatrix whimpered, clutching desperately to her pillow. She sounded so human at that moment that Hermione didn’t even realize her feet had carried her to Bellatrix’s side until the other girl twisted wildly to the side and kicked Hermione. 

 

“Bellatrix!” Hermione tried to catch Bellatrix’s hands and still her movement but the other witch was moving too much. Hermione, in a desperate attempt to still Bellatrix, pushed her onto her back and pinned her hands above her head. Bellatrix’s movements forced Hermione to move closer until she was practically lying on top of Bellatrix. 

 

The other girl finally stilled slightly and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief. 

 

“You know, muddy, I usually prefer to be on top,” the husky, sleep-filled voice sent an involuntary shiver down Hermione’s spine. Hermione lept backward, eyes wide with horror. 

 

“You...you were having a nightmare. You were hurting yourself.” Bellatrix looked away quickly, her cheeks tinged with pink. She moved to sit up, wincing as her ribs continued to pull. “Are you hurt?” 

 

“One of my beaters accidentally redirected a bludger into me during our game. I didn’t bother to have it checked out by the new medi-witch, Poppycock or whatever her name is.” Bellatrix pressed a hand to her left side, wincing again, this time letting out a small whimper. “I figured I’d just have my sister take a look at it, she’s good at that sort of thing.” 

 

“Narcissa?” Hermione asked curiously. The few times she had met the Malfoy matriarch, she hadn’t gotten the impression that she was particularly empathetic or even magically gifted. But then again, one time had been at a Quidditch match, the other her sister had been torturing Hermione. 

 

Bellatrix fixed her with an odd look. “No, of course not. Andy- Andromeda.” Hermione’s heart immediately rose to her throat. She hadn’t even thought of the middle Black sister, who had lost her entire family in the war. And it was rumored that Tonks had been killed by her own aunt, who was currently sitting in front of Hermione. “Do you know Cissy?” 

 

Hermione broke out of her reverie and nodded a bit. “Um, yes, sort of, well, I went to school with her son, your nephew I guess.” 

 

“Cissy has a son? I mean of course she does, it’s thirty years.” Bellatrix scrubbed a hand over her face. “What’s his name? I’m assuming it’s with that Malfoy boy, what’s his face, the one who thinks he’s so pretty.” Hermione let out a snort of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes,” chuckled Bellatrix, but she came up short as pain shot through her body. “For Hades’ sake, what was wrong with that bludger?” 

 

“Can I, can I take a look?” Hermione asked, her voice far gentler than before. 

 

Bellatrix cast an appraising look her way before she nodded. “I don’t see what would be wrong with that. Just no funny business, muddy.” 

 

“You continue to be so charming, Les-Black.” Hermione moved closer to the bed, feeling terribly like prey that willing walked towards a predator, even if the other girl didn’t have her wand. Bellatrix gingerly lifted up one side of her pajama top. Hermione gasped as a large black mark covered Bellatrix’s ribs. “Sweet Jesus.” 

 

“What?” Bellatrix tried to twist to see it, but Hermione's hand on her shoulder stilled her. “Muddy, tell me what it is. Now!” 

 

“I don’t know, I’ve never seen anything like this. Are you sure it was just a bludger?” Hermione brushed her fingers across the edge of the mark, ignoring the softness of Bellatrix’s pale skin. “This looks like dark magic.” 

 

“What do you know about dark magic, muddy?” snarled Bellatrix, shoving Hermione away from her. 

 

Hermione snorted. Much of what she had learned about dark magic had been made a necessity by Bellatrix Lestrange. “Enough to know that that is the result of dark magic. I have a salve that will help make you more comfortable, but I doubt it will do much to make the mark go away.” 

 

“Do it.” 

 

Bellatrix stood to her feet and made her way over to the mirror to examine the mark while Hermione retrieved the salve from her beaded bag. Hermione wanted to pinch herself as she watched Bellatrix, her body untouched by war and prison yet. 

 

She was rather beautiful, in a dark sort of way, if you were into that sort of thing of course. Hermione forced herself to turn away before she got caught staring. 

 

“Here, sit back down on the bed and I’ll get to work.” Bellatrix nodded imperiously, her chin tipped impossibly upwards. “So, Andromeda is talented at healing magic?” Hermione asked as she spread the mixture over her own fingers. 

 

“Yes, she’s best at potions and charms, but she’s especially skilled in the healing arts. More out of necessity than anything else, but she does love it. She’s a gentle soul, my Andy.” Bellatrix smiled softly as she thought of her sister. “Once, when we were small, long before we came to Hogwarts, Andy and I came across a bird in our mother’s garden. It was a tiny thing, but it had fallen and broken its wing. Our father keeps hunting dogs at our estate so it was a wonder the little thing hadn’t been killed already. But Andy, she was bound and determined to save that bird. She cried and cried until I agreed to help her smuggle it in. So I wrapped it in my scarf and we ran back to the house and hid it under my bed. Merlin, Andy loved that little bird called it Nymph. We got one of the house elves to help us fix the wing, but Andy couldn’t let it go, she didn’t want to release her back to the wild.” 

 

Hermione worked to spread the healing salve over the entirety of the black mark. “So what happened to the bird?” She glanced up to Bellatrix’s dark eyes, which shuttered instantaneously. 

 

Bellatrix swallowed hard before continuing. “Our mother found the bird, Cissy was still a baby so Mother had little time for us. She gave the bird to my father, who was livid. He dragged me and Andy out by our ears to his kennel where he kept his hounds. He threw that little bird in the kennel with the dogs and made us watch. Andy cried and cried, but Father didn’t care. She had nightmares for years after that. She’s still terrified of dogs and she’s going on 16 now.” Bellatrix looked away from Hermione and tried to subtly wipe a tear away from her cheeks. “Sorry, I shouldn’t be telling you all this.” 

 

Hermione tried to focus on her task at hand. It was hard enough to contend with a non-evil teenaged Bellatrix, but the image of a little girl trying to save a broken bird with her little sister was so contradictory to what she had known of the witch, it was enough to make her head spin. 

 

“No, no, it’s fine. I mean, who could I tell that would know you now?” Hermione had a quiet chuckle at that. “There, that should feel better for now. But I think it would be best if we saw the Headmistress.” 

 

“Isn’t there a medi-witch here?” 

 

“Um,” Hermione paused, unsure how to explain Madam Pomfrey's absence to Bellatrix. The Hogwarts Nurse was currently working out of St Mungo’s to watch over all the wounded from the Battle of Hogwarts as her Hospital Wing simply didn’t have the capacity to deal with the number. “She’s on leave working at St Mungo’s. Term let out early this year, which is why it’s so empty.” 

 

“I don’t suppose you would tell me why.” 

 

“I’m afraid not, it could be potentially disastrous for the timeline.” 

 

“Of course, can’t forget about the precious timeline, can we, muddy?” Bellatrix smirked at Hermione, who was distinctly aware of her cheeks turning bright pink. “Now, I don’t suppose you have any clothes for me?” 

 

xx 

 

“I can’t believe you’re making me wear muggle clothes! How can you not have any appropriate wizarding clothes?” snarled Bellatrix as they ascended the stairs to McGonagall’s office. She tugged on the soft blue sweater Hermione had given her, and expressly refused to change to black. 

 

“They’re far more comfortable, and anyway, you should be thankful I was willing to put extension charms on my clothes, otherwise everything would be too small on you.” 

 

Bellatrix’s lip curled up in a threat. “Oh, of course, great muggle, how ever can I thank you for your benevolence?” The door opened as Bellatrix finished her sentence, revealing McGonagall. 

 

“I see you two are no longer trying to hex one another.” 

 

“Does this mean I get my wand back?” Bellatrix asked eagerly as the pair entered the Headmistress’s office. 

 

McGonagall offered a placating smile as she returned to her desk. “Not quite yet, Miss Black. Bellatrix, would you be willing to allow me to draw some blood? I spent last night and this morning consulting with my colleagues,” she gestured to Dumbledore’s snoozing portrait behind her, “and we have come up with a few possibilities as to how you ended up here.” 

 

Bellatrix offered her hand up quickly. “Anything to figure this out. I just want to go back to my time and see my sisters.” 

 

“Very good, Miss Black.” McGonagall produced a silver knife from her desk and pricked one of Bellatrix’s fingers. A small drop of crimson blood sat on the end of the blade until McGonagall deposited it in a small vial. She then retrieved a second vial of blood and arranged the two vials next to one another. The two younger witches watched with great interest as the older witch spoke, “ _ Sanguinis veritatem _ .” Two trails of green smoke rose from the vials and wound together before turning a brilliant silver color and vanishing. 

 

“What does that mean, Professor?” Bellatrix asked, her eyes wide. 

 

“It means we know how you got here, Bellatrix.” 

 

“And?” prompted Hermione.

 

“As you both saw, I took a drop of Miss Black’s blood and I also procured a sample of Mrs. Lestrange’s blood,” Hermione watched with interest as Bellatrix flinched slightly at the name. “You are the same person.” 

 

“We knew that already though, Professor.” 

 

“To some extent, yes, Miss Granger. However, this is even more literal than that. They are the  _ same  _ person. As in, exactly the same.” 

 

Hermione gasped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth. “No, you can’t mean…” She twisted to stare at Bellatrix who looked increasingly more perplexed. “But Professor, isn’t that impossible? To rise from the dead?” 

 

“Rise from the dead?” Bellatrix’s voice was shrill and had a touch of madness in it that Hermione had not yet heard from this version of Bellatrix. “What are you two on about?” 

 

“I believe what my venerable successor and Miss Granger are attempting to say, Miss Black,” began Dumbledore’s portrait form over McGonagall’s shoulder, apparently now awake after the ritual, “is that you died in 1998, but by some miracle of death, you have returned from the dead, but not as you were when you died, but rather as you were in 1970. It would seem that somebody thinks you deserve a second chance.” 

 

“A second chance from what? How did I die?” Bellatrix was quickly reaching hysterical levels. “The last thing I remember is a Quidditch match for Merlin’s sake! In 1970! I don’t want to be here!” 

 

“Miss Black, Bellatrix, please calm down!” McGonagall cried as sparks of magic flew from Bellatrix’s fingertips. 

 

“Calm down! Why should I calm down when you’ve just told me I’ve been stolen away from 1970 because I died in 1998.” 

 

“Not so much stolen, I would say, as duplicated. Obviously, Minerva and Miss Granger know you in 1998, so you clearly existed and lived your life to its course. It is merely this form and this moment in time that Death has chosen for you to attempt again. Do you remember anything from before you woke yesterday morning?” 

 

“Yes!” shouted Bellatrix, “I remember a bleeding Quidditch match!” 

 

Dumbledore did manage a chuckle at this, although the other pair of witches were far less amused. “No, my dear, perhaps from your fainting spell, do you remember anything occuring while you were unconscious?” 

 

Bellatrix sank back against the chair, a pounding behind her eyes. She pressed her fingers to her temples. “Something about… something about a scar on the world, that I… that I need to repair?” 

 

“What does that mean, Professor Dumbledore?” 

 

“Well, Miss Granger, if I understand correctly, Miss Black has been returned to the land of the living to repair the damage she did while she lived. Do you have any memories of Miss Granger perhaps, Miss Black?” 

 

Bellatrix glanced at Hermione briefly. “The mudblood?” She ignored the admonishing sounds from the two professors. “Never seen her before in my life. Before yesterday that is.” 

 

“Curious and curiouser. It would seem that Miss Black does not have her memories from the last thirty years and whether this is by choice or by chance, it will likely make your journey more difficult.” 

 

“What bleeding journey?” spat Bellatrix, the urge to curl up in a ball and cry increasingly overwhelming. “I never asked for this.” 

 

“No, in 1970, you did not, but in 1998, perhaps you did. Or perhaps, Death took an interest in you. If I might make a suggestion, Minerva, I would advise fetching Mrs. Malfoy and Mrs. Tonks.” 

 

McGonagall looked absolutely incensed at the suggestion and Hermione wanted to be anywhere else at that moment. Bellatrix’s dark eyes darted around, not unlike a cornered, rabid dog. “Absolutely not, Albus! I will not fetch her, not on the day of the Lupins' funeral!” 

 

Dumbledore’s smile faltered. Hermione felt a wave of guilt wash over her. How could she have forgotten Tonks and Remus’s funerals this afternoon? She and Harry were both meant to be giving speeches. She had become so wrapped up in the enigma of Bellatrix’s appearance that she had forgotten the outside world.  

 

“Who are you talking about?” 

 

“We will discuss this later, Bellatrix. I would advise that you and Miss Granger return to Gryffindor Tower at once. Miss Granger, I have arranged a portkey for us to leave at 2 o’clock.” 

 

Hermione nodded numbly, still grappling with the concept of a young-old Bellatrix. 

 

Bellatrix looked as if she wanted to argue further, but stood silently and followed Hermione out. 

 

Once they were well away from the Headmistress’s office, Bellatrix asked, “Who are the Lupins?” 

 

“Friends of mine that died,” managed Hermione, shocked her voice didn’t break. 

 

“How did they die?” 

 

“How do you think?” 

 

“Does it have something to do with how ‘I’,” Bellatrix motioned for parentheses, “died?” 

 

“Leave it alone.” 

 

“Muddy, c’mon, I have just been vaulted 30 years in the future and apparently the two people who the old man thinks could help me, one of which is my baby sister, who’s now decades older than me, and I can’t see them because of somebody’s future. Just tell me who they are.” Bellatrix tugged on Hermione’s sleeve gently. 

 

Hermione spun around, forcing Bellatrix against a nearby wall. She jammed her wand under the taller girl’s chin, not unlike how Bellatrix had once done to her. “I said leave it alone. Not everything revolves around you. You have just made everything infinitely more complicated. You should’ve stayed dead, you psycho.” Bellatrix visibly gulped, her dark eyes fixed on Hermione’s amber ones. 

 

Hermione became distinctly aware of two things in that moment: one, she rather liked having Bellatrix at her mercy and two, Bellatrix smelled like freesia. A strange mixture of guilt and disgust rolled through her and she shoved away from Bellatrix. 

 

Bellatrix hunched over a bit, coughing. “Message received, muddy, loud and clear.”         

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so an explanation of sorts. i think the best way to simplify it is basically: it's similar to the good place when they get sent back to earth, but they don't remember being in the good place, only bellatrix is sent back as her 17 year old self with the intention of maintaining all of her memories from her life up to '98, only something went wrong and she only remembers up to may of 1970 before she graduated Hogwarts. bit long winded, but that's basically it. 
> 
> don't worry, there will be more characters in the next chapter, so it's not just hermione, bellatrix and mcgonagall having long-winded conversations. i promise. 
> 
> much love, 
> 
> b xx


	4. update!!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> new story rewrite of this one!

hey gang,

 

i have come to realize that i wrote myself into a corner here and so have decided to rework it in an entirely new story.

 

that can be found here: <https://archiveofourown.org/works/21652405/chapters/51632539>

 

same premise, just like the math makes sense and i'm happier with the eventual direction it'll take! 

 

much love as always 

 

b 

**Author's Note:**

> wotcher my beautiful people! 
> 
> i'm coming back to my roots. i haven't properly written/published for harry potter in ages. but it is and always will be my one true love. only this time, it's gay. 
> 
> will also be cross-posting on ffn 
> 
> please please let me know what ya'll think :) 
> 
> much love, 
> 
> b xx


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